


mercy rule

by envysparkler



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fifth Sector, Fudou/Kidou if you squint, somewhat cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler
Summary: Someone is trying to poison soccer.  Perhaps no one told them about the numerous wealthy, powerful, and influential people they were going to piss off.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	mercy rule

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FFN. You can probably tell that I was not a fan of GO.

Fudou tried very, _very_ hard to keep from laughing but the sight of Gouenji’s stupidly earnest face set him off. “You want to _what_?” Fudou gasped out between chuckles. Gouenji’s earnestness slipped away to first confusion, then anger.

“I want you to help me cultivate a criminal background,” Gouenji repeated, now glaring. The glare was definitely impressive, it brought Gouenji’s dark, slanted eyes together and his aristocratic eyebrows narrowed. Fudou could totally see why people were terrified of Gouenji Shuuya.

But Fudou got glared at by Kidou on a regular basis and there was something about angry red demon eyes that ruined all other glares.

Fudou’s laughter died down, and he sat up a little straighter. “First,” he said cheerfully, still smiling, “I’m insulted that I’m the first person you went to for criminal connections.”

Gouenji muttered something at that so Fudou paused, “What?”

“You’re not the first person,” Gouenji scowled, “Tobitaka was the first person.”

“What did he say?” Fudou leaned forward, intrigued by this new piece of information.

“He shut the door in my face,” Gouenji crossed his arms, “But that’s beside the point.”  
  


“See, that’s what people _do_ when you accuse them of being a criminal,” Fudou said, unsympathetic, “So, revised first. I’m insulted that I’m the _second_ person you went to for criminal connections. You didn’t even check with Hiroto first? Or Hijikata? Why was _I_ –”

“What does Hiroto have to do with anything?” Gouenji interrupted, frowning. The guy had a wide range of negative expressions.

Fudou raised an eyebrow, “Aside from the fact that he runs a criminal empire?”

Gouenji choked on the tea that Fudou had offered him. “Hiroto?” he spluttered, “ _Criminal empire_?”

Fudou raised the other eyebrow, “What did you think the Sun Garden Foundation was? A charitable organization?” Gouenji spluttered incoherently for another minute before he pulled himself together.

“Okay,” Gouenji looked like he was trying very hard not to think about Hiroto, “But I came to you. Can you help me or not?”

“Second,” Fudou continued, ignoring Gouenji, “Why do you need a criminal background? Your career is flourishing. They say you’re the best ace that Japan’s ever had. What could you possibly need a criminal background for?”

Gouenji’s face went tense and he gripped the teacup tightly as he turned to look Fudou in the eye. Fudou straightened up and the mood turned serious. “Fifth Sector,” Gouenji said gravely.

Fudou sat perfectly still, with the appropriate grave look on his face and waited. And waited. When it was clear that Gouenji wasn’t going to volunteer any more information, he ventured a question, “What?”

“Fifth Sector,” Gouenji repeated, and yes, Fudou had _gotten_ that part, but what the bloody hell was Fifth Sector? Fudou narrowed his eyes in sudden concern – if Fifth Sector was some new criminal organization, he should’ve known about it, and if Kidou found out about it _before_ him, Fudou was definitely going to get fired.

Gouenji huffed, clearly exasperated with Fudou’s incomprehension. “You know, the new management for junior high football?” he clarified.

“Oh,” Fudou lit up with comprehension, before frowning, “No, I don’t actually. Never heard of it.” If it was to do with football, it wasn’t his problem. He didn’t deal with information on _that_ particular side of Kidou’s life. In fact, it was Sakuma’s job – looked like he dropped the ball at that one.

Trying to hide his glee at his counterpart’s dismal failure, Fudou turned back to Gouenji, “So what’s a management organization got to do with you wanting a criminal background? If it’s because it’s shady, drop it. _Kageyama_ ran junior high football for nearly thirty years and no one had a problem with that.”

“They’re fixing matches,” Gouenji said, dropping the bombshell with no fanfare.

Fudou stared at him, mouth agape. “Those _bastards_ ,” Fudou breathed out, and it was a testament to his shock and rage that he couldn’t think of a better curse, “Those _complete_ and _utter_ bastards!”

Gouenji nodded, looking relieved now that Fudou had finally understood the situation. “Now you get it,” Gouenji said, “That’s why I need a criminal background.”

Fudou was still reeling from the pronouncement that someone was trying to _fix football matches_ , so it took him a minute to process Gouenji’s words. When he did, he frowned, “Wait, no, I still don’t get why you need the criminal background.”

“So I can infiltrate them,” Gouenji leaned forward, his eyes bright, “And I’ll go higher and higher up the power structure until I can get my hands on the evidence we need to prosecute. It’ll probably take a few years but –”

Fudou put a hand up to cut Gouenji off, because he couldn’t listen to this insanity for another second. “Let me guess,” Fudou said dryly, rubbing his temples to ward off the headache he knew was coming, “This was Endou’s idea.”

Gouenji frowned, “How did you guess?”

Fudou took a moment to scrounge up patience in the deep corner of his mind he reserved for Endou’s idiotic schemes. “Okay, Gouenji-san,” Fudou said, trying to be polite about it, “You’re Endou’s best friend. I get it. We overlook a lot of flaws in our best friends. But there’s something about Endou I think you don’t know. We should’ve pointed it out to you, but to be honest, we all thought it was obvious.”

“Knew what?” Gouenji looked suspicious and confused.

Fudou tried to figure out a way to breach the subject softly, but decided to screw it. “Endou’s insane,” he said bluntly.

Predictably, Gouenji rose up in defense of his captain, “You don’t know Endou at all! He’s not crazy, he’s just –”

“He’s crazy,” Fudou interrupted, “Completely off his rocker. Cuckoo.”

“Well,” Gouenji put the teacup down and got up, a nasty look on his face, “I can see that coming here was a mistake.” Fudou groaned – he really should’ve taken Gouenji’s capacity for melodrama into account. 

“Okay, stop,” Fudou called out as Gouenji headed to the door, “If you don’t think Endou’s crazy, fine. But at least admit that his _plans_ are nuts.”

Gouenji reluctantly turned back and looked at him. “They are,” he conceded, sitting back down. One crisis averted. Fudou didn’t want to imagine the look on Hiroto’s face if Gouenji turned up at the orphanage asking for criminal connections.

“Okay, I know that Endou’s plans somehow all manage to work out,” Fudou said, carefully tiptoeing around the fact that Endou was batshit insane and had all the luck in the world, “But how about we try to look at this from a…” _Sane_ , his mind supplied, “More logical perspective?”

Gouenji’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I didn’t really want to pretend to be a criminal,” Gouenji said, “But we need the evidence.”

“How do you even know they’re match-fixing?” Fudou asked, settling back now that Gouenji was no longer a flight risk. The things he did for his old friends.

“I was watching one of Raimon’s games recently and they lost,” Gouenji frowned, “It’s not that I’m biased, but it was an easy game against a weak opponent. Raimon left more openings than I thought they had and they missed some very easy goals.”

“Please tell me that’s not the only reason you have,” Fudou practically begged. This was ridiculous.

“No,” Gouenji glared, like Fudou was an idiot for even suggesting that, “I went to Raimon to check it out and found the captain in tears. He’d received a score card for the next game, they had to lose 0-3.”

“And you’re sure that he wasn’t just making this up?” Fudou checked. Gouenji didn’t dignify that with a response. “What about the coach?” Fudou pressed, “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Gouenji’s frown grew even deeper, “The kids are ordered not to tell anyone – not their coach, their friends, their parents. No one.”

“What’s stopping them?” Fudou asked, “I wasn’t aware that Fifth Sector has enforcers. How could they possibly contain this?”

“They watch the schools and the media. If there’s a hint that word gets out,” Gouenji shrugged, and the movement was sharp, “Accidents happen.” His tone was light but Fudou could hear the seething knot of rage buried below. 

“That’s sick,” Fudou whispered hollowly, thinking of all the bright-eyed kids who simply wanted to play football and instead had to perform an impossible act on the football field under immense duress.

“Kageyama did that too,” Gouenji sneered, clenching his fists, “But no, according to _you_ , no one cared about his actions enough to stop him.” Belatedly, Fudou remembered that Kageyama had put Gouenji’s sister in the hospital.

“That’s not what I meant,” Fudou pinched the bridge of his nose, “Kageyama did horrible, unspeakable things. He also never sent score cards to teams, but,” he held a hand to stop Gouenji from interrupting, “I get it. Principle of the matter and all. But what you don’t understand is that Kageyama did not manipulate _every match_. Teikoku Gakuen was genuinely the best and Kageyama made sure of it. He recruited the strongest players to the richest school and many of its members went on to become influential members of society.” He eyed Gouenji, “Can you see why no one wanted to stop him?”

“So Kageyama elevated the rich and powerful,” Gouenji threw up his hands, “So what?”

“ _So_ ,” Fudou stressed, “He had the influence of the only people that mattered.” One fundamental mistake this Fifth Sector looked to have made.

Gouenji still looked confused, “But what does any of that have to do with Fifth Sector?”

Fudou groaned. _This_ was why he’d taken the job as Kidou’s assistant. At least, if Kidou was being stupid, Fudou could smirk at him and be instantly gratified by the sight of Kidou’s steadily purpling face. Gouenji was not that easy to rile.

“What is Kidou?” Fudou asked, trying a different tack.

“What?” Gouenji looked like he thought Fudou had gone crazy.

“ _What is Kidou_?” Fudou repeated, “What does he do?”

“The CEO of Kidou Enterprises,” Gouenji answered warily, “The coach of the Teikoku Eleven?”

“Yes, a successful businessman,” Fudou encouraged, “What about Touko? Hiroto? Toramaru?”

“Touko’s in politics, Hiroto runs the Sun Garden Foundation and Toramaru’s a cop,” Gouenji answered, “I still don’t see where you’re going with this.”

“They’re all influential members of society,” Fudou pressed, “Who all love soccer. Now can you see it?”

“…No,” Gouenji answered.

Fudou fought the urge to bang his head against the wall. “If I called Hiroto up now and told him what Fifth Sector was doing, what would he say?” Fudou prodded.

“He’d be furious?” Gouenji guessed.

“Exactly,” Fudou smiled, “And as a well-respected member of society as well as a prominent leader in the criminal underground, what do you think he could _do_?”

“Fifth Sector didn’t get the support of the rich and powerful,” Gouenji said, comprehension dawning on his face, “That’s their mistake. They’re going to piss everyone off.”

“Well, not _everyone_ ,” Fudou corrected, “Someone big has to be supporting them to pull this off, but they didn’t get a single supporter from the football generation that _started_ this madness and that’s going to ruin them.”

“Great,” Gouenji said, getting up, “Thank you so much, Fudou. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Sit back down,” Fudou ordered. Gouenji glared, but at this point it had become practically part of his face. “I highly doubt that Endou will know what to do with the tool I’ve given you and I don’t trust you not to go running off to Hiroto to ask for a criminal background.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Gouenji asked, rolling his eyes but sitting back down.

“I’ve been a helpful host,” Fudou said, getting up and retrieving his phone, “I gave you tea and listened to your problems. The least you can do is let me fix them.” Gouenji shrugged in a vague way that Fudou interpreted as _‘be my guest’_.

Fudou grinned and dialed the Endou residence. Natsumi picked up, which saved him a lot of time and maneuvering.

“Natsumi-san,” he said politely when she answered the phone.

“Fudou-san?” she sounded surprised, “I’ll get Mamoru. Wait a second, please.”

“Actually,” he cut her off, “I wanted to talk to you.” Quickly, he filled her in on Fifth Sector. Gouenji had gotten up and was browsing the pictures on Fudou’s wall.

“How did you come by this?” Natsumi asked, once she’d finished cursing, “I thought you handled Kidou’s business, not his team.”

“Gouenji came by,” Fudou replied, and watched the man flinch, “He and Endou were planning on infiltrating Fifth Sector from the inside to get the evidence they needed.”

“When you say it in that tone,” Gouenji sighed, “It sounds stupid.” Fudou raised a single eyebrow.

“Mamoru knew?” Natsumi asked, her tone unchanged.

“Yes.”

“I see,” Natsumi said, her tone still that of the demure housewife, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Fudou-san, I will handle it from here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a talk with my husband.” She hung up without saying goodbye, which was the most telling indicator of her anger.

“Endou didn’t want Natsumi to know,” Gouenji said mildly.

“Then Endou is a fool, which is something I already knew,” Fudou replied, “Natsumi may be his wife now, but this was the girl who traveled half across the world following rumors of Endou’s grandfather. She has all of her father’s charisma – with an extra ruthlessness that her old man never had. She is also a well-known name in football and has spent half her life trying to root out corruption.” Fudou leaned back, and began dialing another number, “She’ll have Fifth Sector gone by the end of the week.”

Gouenji frowned, “Who are you calling now, then, if Natsumi’s so great?”

“Media connections,” Fudou said as the line started ringing, “The sooner this gets out, the better.”

“I already told you, the media is keeping quiet,” Gouenji said, “They’ve been threatened and –”

“Clearly you’ve not been talking to the right people,” Fudou rolled his eyes. Haruna answered the phone on the fourth ring.

“Fudou,” she said cheerfully, “You can tell Niisan that I’m not taking messages. He wants to talk to me, he can talk himself.”

“I’m not calling on his behalf,” Fudou said dryly. Kidou _had_ tried to get him to deliver a message earlier in the day but Fudou had refused. They could settle whatever argument they had on their own terms. “I’m here with a story.”

“Haruna?” Gouenji asked, incredulous, “Why didn’t I think of Haruna?” Fudou gave him a look that he hope conveyed _‘because you’re an idiot_ ’.

“You know, Fudou, when normal people fight with their boyfriends they make them sleep on the couch,” Haruna said lightly, “They don’t publish personal secrets in the news.”

“First of all,” Fudou growled, “We’re not dating. Second, that was _one time_. Third, not everything in the universe revolves around Kidou-kun.” Gouenji looked supremely interested in the conversation now. Fudou glared at him irritably and turned away.

“Okay,” Haruna agreed, in a tone of voice that suggested she was just humoring him, “So what’s the story then?”

Fudou explained about Fifth Sector to her, too, and when Haruna finally hung up it was to muttered curses and a gleeful promise to bury the bastards responsible. Fudou made a mental note not to get on her bad side.

“There,” Fudou flopped back down on the couch, “Haruna will get in touch with Natsumi and they’ll work out a timeline for the media. Once the news breaks, the kids will start coming forward and it won’t matter how many watchers Fifth Sector has because you can’t silence that many people at once.” Fudou leaned back and gave Gouenji a shit-eating grin, “Your problems are fixed.”

“I’ll have to admit, Fudou,” Gouenji said grudgingly, “I didn’t think of any of this.”

“That’s why it’s called a _team_ effort,” Fudou lazily waved a hand, “Now, I’m going to have to inform Kidou that his team have been match-fixing right under his eyes, and I’m going to have to do it before Natsumi barges into his office because she assumes he already knows. I’d like some quiet to think of a strategy that _doesn’t_ get a book thrown at my head, so…” Fudou motioned in the direction of the door.

“Yes, of course,” Gouenji got up and bowed low, “Thank you so much, Fudou. You have been a huge help.”

“Don’t mention it,” Fudou smiled, seeing Gouenji out the door, “Oh, and next time if you want that criminal background, Toramaru’s your guy.”

“Toramaru?” Gouenji asked, turning back with wide eyes, “But I thought he was a cop!”

Fudou shut the door.


End file.
